


The Perplexities of a Photograph

by wethecommon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2018-08-12 21:31:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7949860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wethecommon/pseuds/wethecommon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Potter was dead. He had met his demise on October 31st, 1981 in attempts to save him family from Lord Voldemort. This much Harry knew to be true, he reminded himself this over and over again every night so how was it that the father Harry had never known was suddenly standing in his dormitory?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The accidental ripping of a photograph

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is. I was just really sad about Harry Potter and basically everyone's deaths and I was kind of like hey, what if-get this-good things happened. So lo and behold, I have written James Potter's resurrection

Harry Potter was mad. He was beyond mad actually, he was fuming. Which was a perfectly reasonable emotion to feel when one has just recently learned that their parents' deaths were caused by the ultimate betrayal of a best friend. So yes, thirteen year old Harry who had snuck off to Hogsmead and overheard a conversation that made him want to vomit and lash out simultaneously, was absolutely livid. All he could think about was the newly-escaped convict Sirius Black and how he dearly wished to avenge his parents deaths. It might be important to note that he is just a third year who's only perfected defense spell is 'Expelliarmus', but to the incredibly angry child, that was hardly an afterthought.

No, that was actually the farthest thought from the young teenager's mind as he sat on his bed, staring down at the photograph of his parents on their wedding day. They both wore radiant smiles and love-filled eyes as they posed for the picture, James waving and his mother leaning into his side. This photo never failed to bring Harry joy in even his most desolate of moments, but it was only now that is brought him absolute torture. This was because, right beside his mother and father stood the very man who caused Harry to see red. The raven-haired, silver-eyed mad man who brought upon his parents' deaths was actually _laughing_ in the photograph. Harry couldn't help but imagine how Sirius must have laughed when he had betrayed Lily and James. How he must have thrown his head back after he delivered the Potters' whereabouts to Voldemort and delivered an terrible malicious laugh. The sound haunted Harry as it beat through his brain like a drum. Harry had never felt this absolute hatred before in his entire life, not even when Snape had made some terrible remark about him in Potions, not even when Dudley had shoving his head in the toilet. No, Sirius Black had made Harry want to _kill_. 

He glared at the picture, his hands shaking so much the picture itself was trembling. Sirius Black was the reason his parents were dead, the reason Harry was orphaned, and what made matters even worse was the fact that he was Harry's Godfather. Harry could barely take it anymore, he wanted Sirius gone. Black didn't deserve a place at his parents' side in the photograph, he deserved to be dead. Harry decided to take matters into his own and starting pulling at the Photograph, willing it to come undone, to tear Sirius Black's stupid laughing face out of it, but this proved a tougher feat than Harry originally thought. 

"Stupid magic photograph," He muttered, "Why won't you just Rip!"

With a terrible sharp shearing sound that echoed through the empty dormitory, the picture finally ripped in half. But this was the not the results Harry had hoped for. Harry gaped in horror at the two halves of the photograph that were once whole. 

"No no no no no no," Harry begged, trying to put the photograph back together. 

In one hand remained the terrible laughing sinister face of Sirius Black next to the glowing Lily Evans, but in the other was the hand was the waving James Potter, now separated from his beloved newly-wed. Harry felt a horrible sadness push through him like a wave crashing onto shore, washing away his once so vibrant anger.

"No," He whispered, "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry." 

He hoped his parents could hear him, hoped that they could know how incredibly sorry he was for tearing them apart. But his parents were not around to hear his desperate apologies and the reminder caused an ache in his heart so great, it threatened to swallow him whole. He tried shoving it back together, praying that the magic photograph that had been so hard to rip in the first place, would just- _please_ -reattach itself. But no matter how hard Harry tried to shove the halves together, they remained forever apart. He hardly noticed the tears leaking out of his eyes from his own frustration. 

"I'm so sorry, dad," He spoke, now clutching onto the pictured James Potter who was still waving up at his son. "I hadn't meant . . . I hadn't meant for you-"

But he broke off once he noticed his tears dripping onto the ripped photo, ruining it even more. He let if fall from his hands, feeling it was safer away from him. He had already done enough damage. It was for him, after all. His parents had died protecting _him_. It was all his fault. Not for the first time in Harry's life had he found himself praying his parents were alive, that Sirius black hadn't been a spy, that Voldemort hadn't even been after his parents in the first place, that his parents never had to die for Harry. Why couldn't he just have a family? Why was he trapped with this hollow pain in their place? 

"Harry?!" Ron's call broke Harry out of his tear-riddled stupor, "Harry are you in here?!

Harry hurriedly wiped his tears away, sure to keep Ron from seeing him in this state. Ron and Hermione were already worrying enough. He didn't want to be subjected to their pity. That was the on thing Harry would not stand for: pity. Trying to keep the torn photograph from sight, Harry swept it under his bed. 

Doing his best to keep his voice from shaking, Harry responded, "Yeah." 

Upon hearing his voice, Ron made his way over to Harry's bed. Harry kept his head down, obscuring Ron's view of his eyes. 

"Hey, Hermione and I were thinking of going to visit Hagrid. You know, check how things are with Buckbeak and all. The common room is practically empty with everyone gone for the Holidays so there's not really much else to do. Do you wanna come?" Ron's voice was cautious, unsure what reaction he would receive from his best friend.

At the mention of Hagrid, Harry's head whipped up. His anger had returned. Hagrid had been a participant in the conversation Harry had overheard. Hagrid had _known_ Sirius Black used to be his dad's best friend and never even thought to bring it up to Harry. Yes, Harry would like to visit Hagrid, but only for the sole purpose of demanding answers.

"Yeah, let's go see Hagrid," Harry seethed, "Let's ask him why he never told me about _Sirius Black_." The name fell off of Harry's lips like a curse.

This was not the reaction Ron had hoped for. "Harry-" He tried, but Harry was quick to disrupt him. 

"No, that's a great idea, Ron. I want to see Hagrid," He had already made up his mind and would not be deterred. He quickly began searching for his cloak. 

Ron sighed, but went to grab his cloak as well. Together, the two boys descended the stairs to the common room in search of their third companion to begin their trek to Hagrid's. 


	2. The Puzzlement of James Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James wakes up after twelve years of being a decomposing corpse and his first thought is "why am I under a bed?"

If Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had remained in the boys' dormitory for only a few minute more, they would have witnessed the flash of bright light emitting from under Harry's bed. It grew until it enveloped the entire room in its blinding embrace. For one whole minute, the boys' dormitory was positively glowing, its contents shaking violently under the harsh force of the truly spectacular magic that no one was able to attest for. Slowly, the light began to recede back into its source until it disappeared entirely. In its place was now a gasping and utterly bewildered James Potter. 

The first thing James potter saw when he opened his eyes was complete darkness. Which really wasn't much of a change from when he had them closed, truthfully. It wasn't until he turned his head that he noticed a soft light leaking in from either side of him. He looked to the right of him and saw dark hardwood floors and a pair of lonely shoes. To say James was confused would be an understatement. He felt around him, but groped only that splintering glide of the wooden floors. He then, cautiously reached above him and pushed against a spring-material that seemed to push back. 

"What the-Am I under a bed?" He voiced aloud, but there was no one there to answer.

Carefully, he shuffled himself out from under until he was no longer staring up at complete darkness and was now staring up at the chipping paint of a ceiling. Slowly he pushed himself up, until he was sitting, his limbs wobbling a bit under him. It felt as though he had not used them in a long time. Which, as we know, is a true statement, but James Potter was unaware of this just yet. His mind was still trying to unfog itself because it too, was among the things that had not been used in a quite a while.

He looked around him, taking in the array of beds that were decorated in the familiar maroon and gold. The colors seemed to unlock a memory and he found clambering onto the bed that he had just previously been under. _Maroon and gold . . . four beds placed beside each other . . ._ his mind whirred as he put the pieces together. _Am I in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory?_ He found himself asking. But the thought seemed to puzzle himself even more. 

"No . . . I can't be . . . I don't go to Hogwarts anymore . . . I should be at home with Lily and Harry and- _oh merlin."_ This Ladies and gentlemen, signaled James a-ha! moment, which of course however to him, wasn't a very triumphant a-ha! moment as it brought along a rush of memories including the terrible memory of Voldemort finding them in their once thought secret location. 

"No," He softly whispered. It couldn't be. There had to be Lily and Harry somewhere around here. They couldn't be dead, they just couldn't be. He couldn't bear the thought. He was alive after all, even after he distinctly remembered seeing the green flash of light. They had to be alive. They had to be here somewhere. At the thought, he threw himself up, before falling with a loud yelp. His limbs were not prepared for the sudden coarse of action. But he was still determined to get up. His family's lives _depended_ on it. Maybe they had gotten out, maybe he had given them enough time? But he gulped as the memory hit him. He didn't even have a _wand_ , he had hardly held Voldemort for even a minute. But he couldn't left his hope die just yet. They had to be alive. They just had _to_. 

Slowly, he used the bed as leverage to push himself into a standing position, despite his limbs detesting the idea. He brought each foot in front of the other until he was standing at the foot of the bed. He then tried to turn himself to the front of it, but suddenly, he was stubbing his toe. He cried out before looking down to the source of his pain only to find a trunk blocking his path. It was at that point he remembered that there were students attending this school, students that could be back any second and would be rather shocked at the appearance of a mysterious man in their dorm. No, it would be best to get out as quickly as possible. Maybe it would he could try and find Dumbledore. Maybe then Dumbledore could explain just what the bloody hell was going on. 

This was his original course of action until he noticed something rather odd. Imprinted on the trunk James had just rammed into, were the words-clear as day-'Harry J. Potter'. And things got a whole lot more confusing. James sank down, unable to process what this meant. It was impossible. Harry was just a little baby. It had been only yesterday he was tickling the little child's sides, listening to the baby's contagious laughter. Harry wasn't anywhere _near_ Hogwarts age. He couldn't-he wasn't-he was only a baby. This was most definitely not happening. 

Before James could stop himself, he was throwing open Harry's trunk. It was full of clothes, school books, rolls and rolls of parchment, and all someone would need for a school year at Hogwarts. But Harry couldn't be going to Hogwarts-he just couldn't. Harry was a baby the night Voldemort attacked them. Harry was just a baby who's cries filled James ears as he slipped away from the world. But Harry's trunk was here, and his clothes were definitely too big to fit only a child. Before he could ponder on it, a thought hit him smack in the chest. This trunk full of belongings meant one very important thing, Harry was  . . . _alive_. James face erupted in the biggest of smiles. It didn't matter whatever bloody age Harry was just as long as he was alive. That was all that James could even give a damn about at the moment.

His heart swelled with pure love as he clutched onto the belongings of his son, joy bubbling through him until he let out the breathiest of laughs-more out of relief than humor. He had done his job. He had fulfilled his duty as a father. Harry was alive, that's all that mattered. 

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps broke James out of his giddy moment. Right, he was still at Hogwarts, where students were probably coming up to their dorms at this _very moment_. 

"I've never seen Hagrid like that, not even when he gave Norbert up. What do you reckon will happen to Buckbeak?" A voice filtered up to James as he hurriedly pushed himself up and tried not to fall over again once he was standing. 

"Oh, you don't really think they'll find Buckbeak guilty, do you? It was all Malfoy's fault!" It was a girl's voice this time that spoke up.

James could not make one bit of sense of their conversation and took to paying only half attention to it as he tried to figure out what he could do. He couldn't go down the stairs, they were coming up them and he there was absolutely no where to hide in the dormitory. Then again, he could just go back under the bed again, if he just squeezed himself, then he could slip-

"What the bloody hell?" The first voice from before had sounded through the room.

It seemed while James was on his hands and knees, contemplating whether or not to go back under the bed, he hadn't noticed the students arrival. He threw himself up, ignoring the wobbliness in his legs. Now was not the time to face plant. He took in the three kids standing in front of him, although they weren't exactly kids. They looked older than first years, but definitely not older than fourth years. The tallest was a boy with stark red hair and a constellation of freckles splattered along his face, beside him was a curly-haired girl who was staring with her mouth wide at James, and the third had familiar dark messy hair, and a face that James had grown accustomed to seeing in the mirror, only this boy's features were younger, more softer. He would almost be the exact replica as James had been at the age of thirteen if it weren't for those brilliant green eyes . . . _no it couldn't be  . . . could it?_

With all the emotions running through James in that one single moment, he could have probably written the most influential piece of poetry of the century, but the only words he could force out of his stupid mouth were, "Er-hello".

Lily Potter would have most-likely been severely disappointed, but most-definitely not surprised.


	3. A rather awkward and rather confusing conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry comes face to face with the man from the photograph

The three students stood frozen for a moment before they quickly moved into action. They pulled their wands out and pointed them directly at James Potter's chest. In response, James Potter threw his arms up in surrender, but the students remained entirely suspicious. 

"Oi! There's no need for that, I don't even have a wand on me!" James exclaimed.

James was a bit flustered at the moment. It's not every day you're resurrected from the dead and have three wands pointed at your chest by Hogwarts students.  _Thank Merlin Sirius isn't here to see this_ , James thought, _Wait where is Sirius?_ But his train of thought was cut off by something poking into his back. He reached behind him and fumbled around until he felt a sharp, wooden stick-like object poking out of the back pocket of his trousers. He pulled it out and stared in wonder at his wand. Oh man he could cry, he thought he had lost it forever. 

"Okay so it turns out I do have a wand, but that in no way means I'm going to use it to-" 

"Expelliaramus!" A voice shouted and James watched in horror as his wand levitated out of his hand and into the hands of his thirteen year old look a like. His horror was immediately replaced by admiration. His own son had just disarmed him! Brilliant!

"Okay, that's fair, but listen I'm still not going to try and hurt you so there's no need to point your wands on me," James reasoned, but the students made no attempts to lower their wands. 

"Who are you?" The red-haired cried.

"What are you doing here?" The curly-haired demanded.

"Why were you trying to crawl under my bed?" Harry yelled.

The questions came at him like rapid fire and James had to try to deceiver them as best he could while also forcing himself to _not_ focus on the fact that the thing that worried Harry the most was that James was trying to crawl under his bed, and not the issue that there was a random stranger in his dormitory. Well James technically wasn't a random stranger, but Harry didn't _know_ that. And James was at a complete loss on how to go about telling him.

"Right, well . . . I'm not really sure what I'm doing here, I honestly just arrived and I was only hoping to go find Dumbledore," James explained. He figured it would be too much on the poor kid to drop it on him right away, no matter how much he wanted to go run up and hug his son and thank merlin he was alive. 

"You were looking for Dumbledore . . . under my _bed_?" Harry asked incredulously. _Really, still on about the bed?_

"No, that's not-I was trying to _hide_ under your bed, _hide_ not look," James replied. Harry's dubious expression only worsened. 

"Hang on, you look familiar," Came the voice of the red-head. _Abort, abort!_ Once he found Dumbledore or Lily and could sort out just what the bloody hell was going on, then he could tell Harry who he was. Now was not the most ideal moment. It doesn't exactly scream heat-warming family moment when your son is pointing a wand at your chest. 

The room fell silent after the red-head's declaration. The curly-head girl squinted at him, as if trying to determine what the red-haired one had seen, while Harry did the same. It hardly took seconds before his eyes were widening in realization. _Damn it_. 

"No . . . it can't be," Harry whispered, voice disbelieving. 

"Harry . . ." James tried, taking a step towards him, but the three wands were now raised to his head so he took the hint and backed up. 

"How do you know his name?" The red-haired questioned. 

James sighed. Well it seemed if James didn't want to be hexed by his son, he would have to start explaining.

"My name is James Potter," He stated, unsure what reaction he was about to receive. 

The room fell to silence once more as the three students took in his words. The red-haired's mouth simply fell open, seemingly unable to shut. The curly-haired girl's eyes widened until they were nothing but saucers attached to her head. But it was Harry's reaction James cared about the most.

* * *

 

Harry could only gape at his father, his wand shaking as he tried to keep it upright. It was impossible wasn't it? His father was dead. This was some sort of imposter, some sort of trick from Sirius Black trying to lure him out. This couldn't be his father. Sure, he looked exactly like the man from the picture: tall, messy black hair, glasses askew on his face, and warm hazel eyes. But it couldn't be his father. His father was dead. There was no disputing the fact. No matter how much Harry desperately longed for his father to be alive, he knew this was nothing more than a trick. 

"You're lying," Harry spat, "James Potter is dead!"

"No Harry, I know what you're thinking but it is really me, I swear," The James Potter imposter voiced. 

"There is no spell in the world that can bring back the dead," Hermione piped up. 

"I don't know how I got here to be honest. I understand this is confusing, believe me _I'm confused_ , but we should go really go find Dumbledore. I'm sure he'll be able to make sense of this," He suggested. 

"We're not going anywhere until you tell us what you're doing here!" Harry was beyond angry. If this was Sirius Black's doing, he was ready to slaughter him. 

"Listen okay, I'm not sure exactly, I just got here only a little bit ago," The man tried, "If we could just go find Dumbledore, or better yet contact your mother-"

"My mother?!" Harry was shouting now, "She's dead! Just like my father so you should really start explaining yourself!"

The man reeled back as though he had just been punched. His arms flailed around himself as his mind seemed at a loss to comprehend the information presented to him. His legs began to pedal backward until they became encumbered by the obstacle of Harry's bed, at which point they simply gave up and allowed the man to fall backwards onto the plush surface. 

"Lily is . . . dead?" The man whispered, voice wrought in agony. 

Harry wasn't exactly sure what to do. If this was some trick of Black's, well it wasn't exactly all that threatening. There was a small thought blossoming in Harry's mind telling him that perhaps this was truly his father, why else would this man have such a reaction? But then reason took back control and quickly denied all hopes. As Hermione had said, there is no magic in the world that can bring back the dead, not even in this world. 

Harry took a cautious step forward, attempting to get a better look, but at once Hermione spotted his intentions. 

"Harry don't!" She cried, "he could be dangerous! We should alert a teacher!"

At her cry, the man on the bed was roused back into action. He sat up, his eyes gleaming with tears, but nevertheless he had a determined look about him. 

"For merlin's sake, I'm not dangerous," He sighed, "Harry please, I mean you no harm." As he talked, he began to push himself off the bed, moving to get closer to Harry.

"No!" Ron yelled, "Stay away from him!"

He then placed himself firmly between Harry and the man in question. While Ron did so, Harry began to formulate a plan in his mind. If they could just get him to Dumbledore then Dumbledore would know what to do, but if this man was truly a trick of Sirius Black's then maybe he could lead him to the very man who killed his parents. Harry couldn't ignore the sudden visions of vengeance that began to play in his mind.

Before Harry could do anything, however, Hermione decided to take the matter into her own hands. "I'm going to get Dumbledore," she stated and raced out of the boys' dormitory at once. 

Now it was only Harry, Ron, and James Potter's look a like standing around one another in the middle of the dormitory. Glances were passed, glares were spurned, and an awkward silence was quickly descending upon to the room. Oh what to do when you haven't the slightest clue. 


End file.
